


The Job With No Name Because I Have No Idea Where (If Anywhere) It's Going

by Terygon



Category: Leverage, Modesty Blaise - Peter O'Donnell
Genre: Constructive Criticism Welcome, Gen, Help! I don't know where I'm going!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-02-28 22:16:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18765346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terygon/pseuds/Terygon
Summary: Hardison notices an interesting couple enter the brewpub.





	1. Chapter 1

Hardison watched his monitors as the pair entered his pub and crossed over to the bar. He wasn't sure why they caught his attention; she was quite striking, but Sophie certainly equaled her. (His Parker was captivating, cute, feisty, able to bend in the most intriguing directions and perfect for him in every way, but striking? Not so much.) The way the guy moved reminded him in a strange way of Eliot, so he was probably a hitter, too, but Eliot was... Eliot, Hardison's scale for all things athletic (except Parker's balance and bendiness, which has no place in this train of thought, except...)

“Hey, Parker.” The thief and love of his live looked up, her mouth full of marshmallow breakfast cereal. “Mind coming over here and giving me your read on these two?”

She nodded and scooted off the counter, swallowing as she did. There was a time, not that long ago, when he'd have questioned his sanity for even thinking of asking her opinion on something like this, but he'd learned better. They all had. Parker knew things in ways other people just didn't, maybe couldn't.

“Which two?”

“The pair headed to the bar.”

Parker wrinkled her nose in thought, then blew a strand of blond hair out of her face. “Neither is carrying, but they could... He's protective. I'm not sure she needs it... They've got money...”

“Really? They're dressed like office drones on vacay.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Office drones don't wear diamond Rolexes or Fendi accessories. Besides, Sophie would kill for those shoes.”

They watched as the couple reached the bar and caught Brandon's attention. The afternoon bartender did his job and presumably asked what he could get them. The woman responded with a question of her own. First looking confused, a realization seemed to hit him and he went to the register, searching through the collection of business cards they kept there.

“Ooo, that's my cue.” Parker wiggled her fingers, grinning as she headed front house. Watching her leave, Hardison added 'perky' to his list of Parker-descriptors as he triggered their comms.

“Here ye, here ye. Potential clients at the door, well, the bar. Come one, come all who want to express an opinion.”

Brandon handed the woman an ivory card when Parker was close enough that her earbud caught the response.

“Not very informative. Just the name and a phone number.” A rich, slightly accented British voice commented.

Brandon shrugged. “I don't know. Maybe if you know to ask for them, you already know why you need them.”

She started to respond and Hardison could never figure out which happened next: Parker bumping against the pair, or the growling shout from the man he hadn't realized had come to stand beside him.

“Parker! Don't!”

Hardison slapped his hands against his ears (an action he immediately regretted). Parker cringed, covering with a muttered 'whoa, vertigo' and giving the closest camera a vicious glare.

“Give them back.”

Parker's glare remained on the camera and turned more than a little mutinous.

“Parker, please. Give the wallets back and bring them to the office. I'll explain when you get here.”

Hardison was almost sure his thief was going to refuse, but she finally turned on her heel.

“Here.” She almost shoved them back. “Eliot says you're supposed to come with me.”

Parker spun around and marched to the back rooms, not waiting to see if the two were following (which they were). While she wasn't actively trying to lose the pair, she was slightly disappointed when they were right behind her when she went through the doors.

“Welcome to Leverage Inc. I'm Eliot Spencer. These are my associ-” Parker's choked squeal cut Eliot's introductions short.

“Willie Garvin? British papers? That means-” She whipped open the passport in her other hand, gasping as she read the name.

“Give those back!” Not giving her a chance to follow his order, the hitter grabbed the documents and returned them to their owners. “When I say return the wallets, I mean with their contents! I'm very sorry, ma'am.”

The woman, speaking over Parker's whined _But, Eliot-_ , waved his apology away. “Your friend has a very light touch. I almost missed the lift. Eliot, is it?”

“It is now, Mam'selle.”

She nodded acknowledgement. “I had heard you'd signed on with Moreau. I thought I'd taught you better.”

“Worst mistake of my live, ma'am. Bailed when I figured that out.”

“You know Modesty Blaise?” Parker was bouncing in her seat like a six-year-old who'd been promised ice cream before dinner. “Modesty Blaise taught you things?”

“You must be Parker. A pleasure.” Modesty's face was politely impassive, but the very slight deepening of the creases by her eyes showed someone who knew her well her amusement at the younger woman's antics.

“She said my name.” The thief's jaw dropped. She backhanded the shoulder of the hacker sitting next to her. “Hardison, Modesty Blaise knows my name.”

Hardison didn't respond, stunned to silence for what might have been the first time in his life. Eliot, on the other hand...

“Damnit, Parker, stop fangirling. You're a professional. Act like it.”


	2. Chapter 2

Eliot turned back to their visitors. “I'm sorry, Mam'selle. These two sometimes forget their manners. I assume you came here for reasons that don't involve demands for your autograph.”

“Yes, of course. What brings you to Leverage International?” Parker's abrupt shift from giddy fangirl to focused professional didn't draw more reaction than a slight squinting of Modesty's eyes and a cocked right eyebrow from Willie. “I'm assuming you're here for Eliot, but we're a team.”

Modesty smiled, drawing an audible gulp from Hardison. Leverage's thief-mastermind sharply pinched the team's hacker under the table, not because she was jealous, but because if she had to be professional, then damnit, they all did. 

“We didn't know for sure that Eliot was Leverage's infamous, unbeatable hitter. We were aware of the possibility, of course, but rumors are just that. No, we're actually here to see another team member.”

“Hardison.”

“Yes, mama?” The hacker's response merged with Modesty's confirming “Hardison.”

“Why Hardison?” the 'infamous, unbeatable' hitter growled.

“They need something hacked, duh. They're Blaise and Garvin,” Parker continued, drawing Eliot's attention away from the legendary head of the Network crime syndicate. “Their combined skill sets probably about equal ours in the thief-y and hitter-y catagories, and they'll run rings around me in the mastermind-y stuff.”

Modesty's smile shifted from professionally polite to something a bit closer to amused.

“You underestimate yourself. The world record is held by the sprinter, not the decathlete.” At the blonde thief's confusion she explained, “In their field the specialist will nearly always defeat the generalist. Willie and I, for example, have never taken on a Sterenko system without inside help.”

Parker grinned a wicked grin. “Of course you haven't. You're not crazy.”

“We have friends who would disagree.” Modesty reponded with a matching smirk, that should have looked strange on her elegant features. She shifted to a more professional expression as she turned to the reason for their visit. “But you are right. We are in need of a hacker, and we need him immediately.”

“For?”

The Brits exchanged a glance before Willie spoke. “We're doing a favor for a friend and, needing some information, I called on a fella we worked with in the Network days. Mistake. Back in the day he was the best of the best, but I guess the tech just passed him by. The mark not only made him and locked him out, they tracked him down and grabbed him. So now we have to rewrite the grift, run it, rescue our hacker, all with the likelyhood that the mark knows we're coming, and we still need the data.”

“OK.”

“OK?” Willie asked.

“OK. Hardison, get with Willie and find out what data you need to collect, then get on it. Eliot and I will start working the caper with Modesty. Five makes for a different dynamic than two.”

Modesty tried to clarify her position. “We just came for help getting some information.”

“Well, yeah, but you're getting a hacker, a hitter and a thief, plus your information.” At Modesty's doubtful glance, Parker continued. “I said it about Eliot, but it applies to all of us; we're a team. If you want one of us, you get all of us.

“It's really nonnegotiable.” The thief tried to look apologetic, but wasn't sure she pulled it off. “Besides, the mark may know you're coming, but they don't know _we're_ coming.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long and is so short. Between shifting job hours, car repairs, finances and, of course, the other fan-fic, the three, no, four original shorts and a possible novel, my brain's been a bit overloaded lately. Please be assured, I'm not abandoning the story, but I have no idea how long until I'll have the next chapter up, much less when it will be finished.
> 
> Thanks for your patience.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that's all there is. Basically I have no idea what kind of caper Modesty would need these guys to help on. Or vice-versa.
> 
> If you'd like to read some more, ask me some questions. If the answers pique my muse, there'll be more.


End file.
